The Hawthorn and the Yew
by VictorianSongbird1857
Summary: The story of a wand, an ancient family, and a Hufflepuff named Meghan Jones. Slightly Alternate Universe.
1. A Day in the Life of a Squib

The Hawthorn and the Yew  
Harry Potter Universe

Meghan Jones, Hufflepuff 

Chapter One

On May 15, 1991 Meghan Jones spent most of her eleventh birthday knowing she was a Squib. The school bully succeeded in taking her dinner money. Meghan sat on the sidewalk during recess and watched the other children playing. The teacher picked on her when she couldn't find the answer to the square root of 2. In spite of Meghan's best efforts at uncontrolled wizarding temper (she kept trying to catch herself off guard), the bully's hair did not catch on fire. Meghan could not stop a rogue ball from hitting her on the head. The eraser did not attack in Meghan's defense when the teacher told her that there is no square root of 2.

"But then it's a trick question!" protested Meghan.

"And you should have known that, you stupid girl. One times one equals one. One plus one equals—"

"Eleven."

For this Meghan was sent to detention, where she had to write, "I will be respectful to those in authority," one hundred times. By the time it was finished it was five minutes until her uncle was due home. When Meghan burst through her own front door at 5:25 pm with, "Sorry I'm late, Uncle Emrys!" she was late to her own birthday tea by a quarter of an hour.

"You're not. I just came home." Uncle Emrys's suit jacket hung on its hanger by the door. Emrys himself was in the kitchen, shirt-sleeves rolled up. He had a frozen dinner in one hand, the microwave door open in the other. "If I follow these Muggle directions precisely, tea should be ready in just a few minutes."

Tea consisted of half-baked microwaved bangers and mash. The birthday cake ("I had them write the 'eleven' in pink, just like you wanted") was store bought, enough for four people. So Meghan and Uncle Emrys decided to have two pieces each by cutting the cake in half. "I have to blow out the candles first, though!"

Uncle Emrys lit the candles with one match. "Almost as good as a wand," he told himself, nervously. It took him so long he almost burnt his fingers. "Right, then. Make a wish." Meghan leaned halfway across the table, squeezed her eyes closed for a few seconds, opened them and blew out the candles.

Three things happened at once. Uncle Emrys said, "What did you wish for?," the phone rang, and a bird flew against the living room window by the front door. Meghan shrieked, Uncle Emrys said, "Who would be telephoning us?", and the bird started tapping against the glass.

Uncle Emrys answered the telephone. "Yes? Yes, this is Emrys Prewett. She what?" Meghan went to the window. An owl hovered there, looking annoyed. It had a parchment envelope in its beak. "It's a letter. Uncle Emrys, I think it's addressed to— you!?"

"Open the window and give it money—No, Miss Hardy, not you—"

"What?!" said Meghan.

"That's not true. Everyone knows that the square root of two is equal to the length of the hypotenuse of a right triangle with legs of length one. Goodnight." Uncle Emrys hung up the phone. "That was your maths teacher. Apparently you left detention without turning in your sentences."

"I did?" Meghan looked even more bewildered.

"Yes, and she also accuses you of setting off fireworks. She heard a slight explosion, looked into the room, and you were gone."

"What?'

Uncle Emrys opened the window (The owl was very annoyed by now), took the letter, opened a desk drawer, took out coins that did not look quite right, put them in a little bag tied to the owl's leg, and said, "Thank you." The owl flew back out the window.

"Uncle, we've never gotten owl post before. Have we?"

Uncle Emrys said, "Close the window, please."

The envelope (in an ugly shade of purple) was addressed to:

Ambrose O. Prewett, Accountant Squib

Kitchen Table

7 English Stone

Raven Hall, Wrexham

Uncle Emrys sat back down at the kitchen table and opened the letter. His face became still.

"Meghan, what have you done?"

The birthday cake between them had pink candle wax hardened on the frosting. Meghan stared across it at her Uncle. "It wasn't my fault. She gave me a trick question!"

Uncle Emrys read the letter aloud.

Dear Mr. Prewett,

This is to inform you that at 4:45 PM your ward, Megan Jones, apparated from the detention room at Raven Hall Primary and to your home at 7 English Stone. Since

1) Megan's absence was noticed by her Muggle teacher and

2) Megan is now eleven years old,

this letter must serve as a warning. Miss Jones has violated both the International Statute of Wizard Secrecy and the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Wizardry. It will not do for children to act like little beasts. Any further actions of a similar nature on Miss Jones's part will result in severe discipline. I am sure that you will convey the gravity of the situation to Miss Jones.

Regards,

Dolores Umbridge  
Under-secretary to Cornelius Fudge

"What is apparation?" asked Meghan.

"It is getting from one place to another without bothering with the distance in between," said Uncle Emrys.

"Like in _A Wrinkle in Time_?"

"Well, yes, actually. Only it doesn't take you to other worlds or times—just where you want to go in this world. Meghan-"

Uncle Emrys looked stern. Not angry, but stern. The smile faded from Meghan's face. "This is very serious. You cannot apparate without a license, and you have to be at least seventeen. There's something more important, though: How did you apparate? You'd need a wand to do that. Do you have one? Did you take the one from the—"

"No! You told me never to touch it!" Meghan was hurt. "And I don't know how I did it or even that I did it. I was finished with my sentences and saw that you would be home in a few minutes so I jumped up from the desk and—"

"And?"

"I thought I ran really fast. I thought I was late. The next thing I saw was the front door."

"Have you done that before?"

"Maybe once, when I was little. I don't rememb-"

"Never mind that now. Meghan, the fact that you can apparate without a wand means only one thing."

"What?"

"It means that you must never do that again. If people knew you're descended from—"

THUNK!

Another owl at the window, and this time the envelope was addressed to:

Meghan Jones

Bwrdd Cegin

7 Maen Saesneg

Plas Gorax, Wrecsam

["Best open it," said Uncle Emrys.]

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Jones,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

"Let me see that!" Uncle Emrys grabbed it from Meghan's hand. "Sorry, but I have to see."

Meghan served herself half the cake while Uncle Emrys read the letter at least twice. His face went from somber to slightly cheerful to maybe jealous.

"I don't understand. You can't get into Hogwarts just for apparating can you?"

"Don't you want me to go?

"Of course I want you to go! It's just that we're part, err,"

"Squib?"

"Well, no. I'm a Squib—from a wizarding family but no magical ability whatsoever. You, if your apparation is a sign, are not a Squib. But we're both part—"

THUNK!

"I was being nice. It was actually your turn this time," said Meghan, returning from the window. "Anyway, it's addressed to you."

Emrys O. Prewett

Bwrdd Cegin

7 Maen Saesneg

Plas Gorax, Wrecsam

Dear Mr. Prewett,

First, congratulations on Miss Jones's acceptance into Howarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am sure you must be very proud of her. Second, based on the events of the last two hours (or, more specifically, the last fifteen minutes), I must hasten to assure you of a few things:

1) Miss Jones is by no means in trouble for apparating this afternoon. The Ministry of Magic does not make a habit of prosecuting children, much less underage children too young to be accepted into Hogwarts. Since the event technically occurred nearly an hour before Miss Jones's eleventh birthday, and since the event proved that she does indeed have magical ability (and therefore has been invited to attend Hogwarts), no warning is needed. Nor should a warning have been issued. Miss Umbrage, although devoted in her duties as undersecretary to the Prime Minister, has occasionally shown herself to be overenthusiastic. Any warning of such a nature should have come from Malfalda Hopkirk at the Improper Use of Magic Office, not from Ms. Umbrage. Miss Umbrage profusely apologises for any distress she may have caused you.

2) As Headmaster of Hogwarts, it is my policy to accept all humans—Muggle, so called "Pure-Bloods" and half-breeds- who show magical ability and a desire to improve upon it. Elven blood may have given Miss Jones a genetic predisposition to apparate without a wand, but the ability is her own. I do not discriminate against my students, no matter their ancestry (or parentage).

Congratulations again to Miss Jones. I look forward to meeting her September 1.

Regards,  
Albus Dumbledore

"IgeddogoIgeddogoIgeddogo!" sang Meghan around a mouthful of cake. "Whaib a minub," She gulped, winced, coughed and said,"We're ELVES!?"

Uncle Emrys set the letter down, stared at the other half of the cake, placed it slowly on his plate, and deliberately picked up his fork and knife. "No," he said between small, precisely cut bites of cake—not even chocolate frosting appeared around his mouth. "We're descended from AN elf. It was a long time ago."

"When?"

"A long time ago."

Meghan knew Uncle Emrys wouldn't speak again about it until he finished his cake at least. So she crammed the rest of her cake into her mouth and began washing up the dishes. He didn't mention elves again.

On the way upstairs to do her homework, Meghan stopped on the stair. "Uncle Emrys?"

He did not look up from his crossword puzzle. "Hmm?"

"I do get to go, don't I?"

The pencil stopped. Uncle Emrys did not look up. "I don't know yet."

"But Uncle Emrys-"

"GO TO BED!"

Uncle Emrys looked as shocked at his outburst as Meghan did. He broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Meghan, I—"

Meghan ran upstairs and slammed her door.


	2. The Tale of Technor Jack

Chapter 2

When Meghan came downstairs next morning, she saw that not only was the crossword completed, but Uncle Emrys had slept in his clothes. Or hadn't slept at all. Meghan banged her cereal bowl on the kitchen table. Uncle Emrys did not even wince. She spilled dry cereal into the bowl. No reaction. She splattered milk on the table. Uncle Emrys glanced up, but he wasn't looking at the milk.

"Do you really want to go to Hogwarts? You could live your life as a Muggle. It might be easier."

"Elch! I go to school with Muggles!"

Uncle Emrys leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. "Meghan, some of the students at Hogwarts are worse than Muggles. They have the wizarding knowledge and ability ordinary Muggles lack. They will be just as cruel, without the excuse of ignorance."

"I don't care. I want to do Herbology and Selenacy. I want to learn to use a wand. I want to apparate on purpose."

"For what purpose?'

Meghan fell silent.

Uncle Emrys sighed. "Don't worry, I didn't know why I wanted to do those things when I was your age either. Although in my case it turned out to be wishful thinking. But if you really want to go, Meghan—"

"Yes!" Her mouth was full of cornflakes.

"—Then you need to know about Jack the Giant Killer."

Meghan swallowed and laughed. "I learned about that in nursery school."

"No, you didn't."

THE TALE OF JACK THE GIANT KILLER

_King Arthur had an elven tailor named "Technor Jack". Jack made all the king's clothes- from his nightcap to his slippers. He made all the ladies' clothes- from their veils to their kirdles. He made the knights' tunics and armbands. He even made Merlin's cloak and patched his wizard's hat from time to time. _

_One year King Arthur held his Christmas Court at Glastonbury. On the third day of Christmas he sat near a window playing chess with Abbot Benignus. The abbot was winning. He was about to capture a rook when the game was interrupted. _

_"Your Majesty?" Before King Arthur stood Technor Jack. Behind Technor Jack stood a young woman with bright red hair._

_"Your Majesty," said Technor Jack, "this woman has come to ask your help. It is an emergency. She wondered into the kitchens as we were eating." _

_"Did you offer food?"_

_"Yes, Technor Jack offered her refreshment, but she insisted on seeing you. She preferred not to be served food touched by-elves."_

_Technor Jack stepped off to one side, and stood behind King Arthur's chair. _

_King Arthur and the abbot glanced at each other. Benignus took his hand away from the chess board and began to say a rosary to himself. King Arthur sat up straighter in his chair and looked a bit stern. _

_The young woman with bright red hair had come all the way from the North of Wales. Her cloak was ragged and her hair was wild. She did not pause for ceremony: _

_"Trwg the Giant is attacking my village. He is eating all our bread, uprooting our trees, throwing huge stones, and smashing our churches. Lord Pyderi tried to defend us, but Trwg killed him with a boulder. There is no one left to defend us. We need a knight." _

_If King Arthur was taken aback by her lack of manners, he did not show it. "What is your name?"_

"_Drysi, Your Majesty."_

"_Drew-see? That is an unusual name."_

"_My mother said I was a thorn in her side." Here Abbot Benignus tried to stifle a laugh by coughing. _

_King Arthur did not twitch. "Drysi, are you certain that you need a knight?" _

_"Yes, of course. Who else could possibly kill the giant for us?" _

_The King said, "Technor Jack has killed seven at once." _

_Technor Jack inclined his head in acknowledgement. _

_The woman sneered. "An elf kill seven at once? Really?" _

_"Yes," said King Arthur, "Really." Here Technor Jack stepped forward and showed her his belt. It was an elaborate sash, embroidered with hawthorn and yew branches, and set with pearls of a golden hue. In purple thread it read, "Seven with One Blast."_

_The woman startled, then regained her composure. "What about Sir Gawain?" _

_The king shrugged. "He is chasing a green knight, or a blue one. I do not recall at the moment." _

_"Oh. What about Sir Lancelot?" _

_"Sir Lancelot," said King Arthur, turning back to his chess game, "Is teaching the queen to play cribbage." _

_"But this elf is just- an elf!" _

_King Arthur studied the chess board. "You should never underestimate anyone: Neither elf or pawn. Technor Jack is your champion. Best of luck." _

_The woman curtsied. Technor Jack bowed. They both went back toward the court. _

_[Some versions of the tale claim that at this point, Abbot Benignus resumed his capture of the rook. "I am confused, Your Majesty. Technor Jack is a fine elf. He is a most excellent tailor. I have no reason to doubt any courage he may possess. Yet when, Your Majesty, did he ever kill a giant?" _

_"He has never killed a giant." _

_"Then what on earth did he kill seven of at one blast?" _

_"Cornish Pixies."]  
_ ("Drysi sounds like a, errm… W-itch." Meghan slurped cereal from her bowl.  
"Only a standard Muggle," replied Uncle Emrys. "With somewhat standard prejudices. Until…"  
"Until what?"  
"You'll find out if you let me continue.")

_Technor Jack and Drysi had many adventures on the way to her village in Wales. He even earned her grudging respect—although she still refused to eat his cooking. When they reached her village, things were in a bad way. The village square was empty. The church roof was smashed in. The fields were torn up by the roots. Technor Jack and Drysi found everyone gathered in what was left of the churchyard. The village priest was grumpy. Even the moles, nifflers, and birds which were usually in the fields had all come to the boulder on Lord Pyderi's grave to join the complaining. _

"_QUIET!" Screamed Drysi._

"_Oh, it's you," said one of the villagers. "Did you bring back a knight?"_

"_No, I brought back an elf." Technor Jack bowed. There was much yelling, and bickering, and  
everyone called Drysi a "thorn in our side."_

_Drysi screamed "QUIET!" again. Everyone stopped and looked (a bit skeptically) at Technor Jack. _

"_Which way to the giant?" he asked._

"_Follow the line of fallen trees. He's somewhere in the forest. You can't miss him," said the priest. _

_Technor Jack found Trwg the Giant trying to shave himself with a boulder. "Who you?" snarled the giant. _

"_Just an elf."_

_Trwg threw the boulder. The boulder landed where the elf had been. The giant blinked. _

"_Technor Jack can throw a boulder farther than that," said Technor Jack, right at the giant's elbow. _

"_Who Technor Jack?"_

"_The Giant-Killer."_

_Trwg laughed. "He not hit churchyard like I did. And I kill Lord Pyderi with one blow. It bury him, too."_

_Technor Jack looked in the direction of the church. "Where in the churchyard is the grave?"_

"_Under boulder!"_

"_Where?" Technor Jack looked small and bewildered. _

_ "Over there!" Trwg pointed._

_ "Show me," said Technor Jack._

_ So Trwg strode over (in five Giant steps) to Pyderi's grave with a growl and a sigh. "Here!" He bellowed back toward Technor Jack, about to pound his fist on the boulder for emphasis. _

_The boulder wasn't there. "Wha-?" was the last thing Trwg ever said. _

_The boulder, with elven precision, dropped from the air and hit Trwg square on the head. So hard was the impact that the foundations of the church shook. The boulder killed Trwg instantly and buried him so deep no trace of him was left. _

_ From that day to this, the village has been called "Maentrwg" – "Trwg's Stone". Drysi married Technor Jack (He was tall—for an elf, and he wasn't bad looking—for an elf). King Arthur gave Technor Jack land outside the village. Because of his deed, the elf was known as "Jack the Giant-Killer" and "The Brave Little Tailor." Drysi and Technor Jack's descendants were called "The Little Brave Ones"—they were lank and short and had fiery red hair. William the Conqueror and his ilk translated the phrase as "Prewett"—that became the family's surname. The Prewetts are a famous wizarding clan and fought bravely against He Who Must Not be Named in the First Wizarding War. But they are not as Wizard pureblood as they would like to pretend they are. For they gained their courage and fine surname from an elf._

Meghan drank some of the milk from her cereal bowl, avoiding soggy cornflakes and looking at Uncle Emrys over the rim. She clattered the bowl on the table and said, "People are going to give me a hard time because of Technor Jack?"

"Yes, Meghan. Yes, they will. And it will be worse than going to school with Muggles."

Meghan thought about Herbology and Selenancy. She thought about apparating. She thought about the square root of two.

"I don't care. I want to go."

Uncle Emrys smiled in spite of himself. But he also sighed. "I thought you would say that. Finish this year out, Meghan. We'll go to Diagon Alley for your Hogwarts supplies the first Saturday after the Muggle school term ends."

Meghan cheered, and accidently snorted milk up her nose.


	3. Or Were You Hoping Against Hope?

Chapter Three

Uncle Emrys bought Meghan's school supplies with an accountant's mathematical precision. His method was to go down Diagon Alley in order and end with a balanced ledger: books +robes +cauldron + pet + wand = Budget.

At Flourish & Blotts, Meghan asked for a book on Selenancy. "I know Moon Magic runs in the family, but best just to start with the basics," he countered. On seeing her crest-fallen face he added, "Meghan, this is all new to you. Read these books on the required list to find out what really interests you. Then I'll get you books on those subjects at Christmas."

The assistant was very helpful until Uncle Emrys asked, "What do you have in Squib Studies?" The assistant blushed. "We only sell those behind the counter." He glanced at Meghan. "And even then only to patrons at least seventeen years of age." He backed away slightly.

Back on the street, Meghan asked, "Why did that happen?"

"Squibs aren't exactly welcome in Diagon Alley, I suppose." Uncle Emrys tried to laugh, but there was hurt in his eyes. "Never mind. Robes next!"

Madam Malkin led her into the back of the robe shop. An assistant was altering another student's robes. Meghan knew she was a student when the other girl took one glance at her and said, "You look like a Hufflepuff. What a waste."

"That's enough from you, Miss Parkinson!" Snapped Madame Malkin. "You're done here." The girl looked down her nose at her as she stepped off the stool.

Now Meghan stood on a stool, and Madame Malkin turned her attention to measurements. "Oh. We'll have to make the sleeves a bit longer won't we? 4'11 and 25'' arms. Unusual, but it's not a problem. "

From the front of the shop Parkinson's voice sneered "What are you, part elf?" The doorbell chimed, the door slammed, and there was a rather uncomfortable silence, made worse by the sound of Uncle Emrys' uncomfortable cough. He broke the silence when they were back out on the street. "Did I ever tell you about the werewolf I once knew? He recommended chocolate for despondent occasions." They went across the road to Fortiesque's ice cream shop.

Feeling much better after two scoops of double chocolate chunk ice cream, Meghan asked, "Where to next?"

"Magical Menagerie is back across the road. Let's go get your allowed—" he consulted the school supply list—"one owl or cat or toad. "

The shop was crowded, smelly, and noisy with animals. There were owls of all kinds. There were toads of all kinds (including a vain one in a striped waistcoat who, when he saw Meghan glancing in his direction, belted out, "Oh I'm a won-der-ful TOAD!") There were felines of all kinds (including a Cheshire cat and a big, bushy-tailed, bandy-legged creature who stared down imperiously from a high shelf). Then Meghan saw small creatures that looked like a cross between a mole and its longer-nosed cousin, a niffler. The sign in front of the cages said:

**NIFFLE-WARP**

**Cute, affectionate, and fits in a cloak pocket-**

**THE PERFECT TAKE-ANYWHERE PET!**

**Only 4 Sickles**

"Oh, Please!?" said Meghan. Uncles Emrys replied exactly as she expected him to. "The rules are very clear, Meghan. How about a nice, er- well, maybe not a singing toad."

"Humph," said the witch behind the counter. Meghan and Uncle Emrys glanced over at her. She was wearing thick glasses and didn't look up from The Daily Prophet issue she was reading. "You didn't hear this from me," she said, turning a page of the paper, "but I know for a fact that the current assistant gamekeeper at Hogwarts brought an Exploding Newt for his pet. He got to keep it, too. And rumor has it that Dumbledore himself brought a just-hatched phoenix in a fire-proofed cloak pocket. Anyway, those pet rules were laid down years and years ago by Phineas Nigellus, and he always was a Wizarding snob—He was all for "Pure-Blood" wizarding families—anti-Muggle and all - more traditionalist than traditional." She licked a finger and turned another page. "Take it for what it's worth. You didn't hear it from me, mind."

Ten minutes later Meghan walked out with one Niffle-Warp (in cage), pet supplies, and an already-being-read copy of

THE COMPLETE SQUIB'S GUIDE TO NIFFLE-WARPS

BY

GOLDA DIGGER

[page 1] '"Quick Facts You Need to Know":

· Niffle-Warps feed on worms and small invertebrates found in soil.

· Niffle-Warps' natural predators are owls, the common rat, kneazels, and cats.

· Niffle-Warps get along well with water rats, badgers, and toads.

· Niffle-Warps have a tendency toward homesickness, and dislike spring cleaning.'

Meghan also read, " 'The Niffle-Warp (Talpa Europeea Nifferae Mouldywarpus) is three-parts

mole and one part niffler.'"

"Meghan, don't run into the door!" She glanced up. Straight ahead of her was an old man with milky mother-of-pearl eyes and a very alarmed expression. Meghan realized she was looking at him through a pane of glass attached to a door knob: Ollivander's Wand Shop.

It was dusty here, and cramped, and small. Ollivander eyes almost glowed through the gloom. "Wand, eh? Which arm?" Immediately a tape measure began measuring of its own accord (Meghan's arm, height, head size, and even between her unibrow) while Ollivander went to the shelves. These were lined up to the ceiling with long, narrow boxes. Ollivander took one box down. "Enough," he said. The tape measure fell to the floor. "Here," he said to Meghan, "Try this: Maple, dragonheart string core, 10 ½ inches.'' Meghan took the wand, gave it Ollivander's commanded "A nice swoosh," and—nothing.

"Oak, thestral tail hair, 11 inches"—nothing.

"Ivy, phoenix tail feather, 12 inches"—nothing.

After that, Ollivander gave her wands so quickly she had no idea what they were made of. None of them worked. He dropped each wand on the floor as he handed her the next one—the floor began to look like a game of spellican pick-up sticks. The shelves emptied. Finally, Ollivander held four last wands in his hands.

"Hawthorn, 10 inches, unicorn tail hair"—nothing.

"Vinewood, 9 ¾ inches, dragon heartstring"—nothing.

"Willow, 14 inches, unicorn tail hair"—nothing.

Then, the very last one. Ollivander took a deep breath—he looked unsure as to whether or not to give it to her. "Holly, 11 inches, phoenix tail feather." Meghan took it and—nothing.

Ollivander narrowed his eyes at her. "What is your name?"

Meghan hung her head. "Meghan Jones."

"Jones? Any relation to Gwenog Jones of the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team?"

Uncle Emrys spoke up. "Distant cousin."

"Well, Mr. Jones, I've never had a student accepted to Hogwarts not be able to find her wand—"

"Prewett," said Uncle Emrys. "My surname is Prewett. I'm a distant cousin of Meghan's myself. Legal guardian."

"Oh, that Jones family," said Ollivander. He sounded as if he did not quite approve. "That clears things up quite a bit. Tell me," there was an edge of annoyance in his voice, "Did you bring the wand with you or were you hoping against hope that the wand wouldn't attach itself to her?"

Uncle Emrys flushed with embarrassment, then anger. He reached into his inside coat pocket, pulled out something long and not-quite-thin between his fingers, and plucked it down on the counter. "Both."

"Neglected, is it?" Now Ollivander sounded really annoyed. He picked up the wand and began to polish it. "Ah." He held it up to the dusty sunlight and smiled. The wand shaft was just a shade lighter than the handle, yet they fit together almost seamlessly. This was because the intricate handle was carved in a spiral shape; each spiral turn corresponded perfectly to four fingers and (due to a depression on one side) a thumb. Between each turn, a thread twisted itself—golden hued and setting off the handle. Meghan gasped.

" 'Pearls: the offspring of the dew of heaven,'" intoned Ollivander. "'But that found in Britain, they say, is of a golden tinge, and duller in sparkle.'"

"What?"

"Mostly from a homily by Origen, Mr. Prewett."

"Who?"

"Someone much maligned and rightly so. Never mind. This wand," he held it horizontally between his fingertips, "has a shaft of Hawthorn—_biflora_ strain. Yew handle—Fothingall, if I'm not mistaken. The core contains a selkie hair. Wand constructed for Geraint Jones in 1661 by this establishment. "

Meghan was awestruck. "You made this in 1661?"

"Not usually the components I use," replied Ollivander. He hadn't answered her question. "Try it."

Meghan obeyed. A warmth through her arm, a singing through her heart, and Meghan did the first graceful thing of her life with one flick of the wand. Out of the end came a stream of green, blue, and rose-gold sparks, like a fluid roman candle.

"That's it!" Ollivander looked excited, almost happy. "Although I didn't expect such a display. Very unusual. One wand is meant for one wizard—they are paired for life. So hand-me-down wands, even in families, will rarely work as well for successive owners. Hmmm. Who was the last one to own the wand?"

"Ioan," Uncle Emrys spoke up. "Meghan's father." He did not look happy.

"I see," Ollivander gave Uncle Emrys a blank stare. He turned back to Meghan with a smile she didn't quite like. "It seems the wand has found another master—or mistress, as the case may be."


End file.
